Ripples
by Hargasm23
Summary: In unchartered waters this case will cause ripples.
1. Chapter 1

Nerves.

They were sliding up her spine, exploding across her flesh and filtering into her lungs with each breath.

This case would be different – like no other.

She knew this case would change her.

"You ready?" Elliot whispered into the hotel elevator at the four seasons and suddenly she was frozen. Her breath was stifled in the depths of her lungs and she felt faint. She wasn't ready, not for this.

But she didn't tell him that.

She never does.

Instead she nodded in his direction, careful not to capture the pools of blue because it wouldn't bring comfort this time.

She felt his fingers, course yet warm as they slipped into hers and it wasn't the first time but she reacted as if it were. She jolted against his touch but slowly softened as his fingers intertwined with hers.

Her partner was perceptive.

She knew her trepidation hadn't escaped him but she was thankful for his silence.

There were no words of comfort or assurance, just a gentle squeeze of her palm before the elevator doors slid open.

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_Later._

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Elliot saw her from across the room.

The canary yellow cocktail dress was a sting against his eyes.

There was a brightness that came to light when Olivia wore color. The caramel highlights in her hair twinkled, her chocolate pools became richer and the air in his chest felt tighter.

It scared him.

He wanted her in black, greys, jeans - leather. He wanted her in sensible shoes for a quick get away and a gun at her hip for security.

He wanted assurance.

Instead when he looked into her eyes in the elevator he saw hesitation, apprehension - uncertainly.

She was talking to a man that was standing unnecessarily close to her. She was smiling, laughing - periodically touching his forearm as she leaned into him.

Elliot's jaw clicked.

He noticed her anxiety was nowhere to be seen now and it was like a switch had been flicked somewhere.

She was on.

It didn't ease the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

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A waiter interrupted Olivia's conversation with the man.

Her eyes drifted across to the silver platter that housed the two champagne glasses. She watched as he lifted two from the platter and extended one her way.

She took it gracefully and the clink of glasses echoed in her ears.

She sipped - just once, the fizzy bitterness lacing her tongue but it was just for show. She would nurse it, feign further sips until she found a discrete place to set it down.

_She wanted to drain it._

"I'm Jack," the tall man with grey eyes told her and despite his conventional good looks there was an awkwardness to him.

He wasn't their guy.

"Olivia," she returned with a polite smile before she excused herself and headed towards her partner.

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"Charlie," the petite woman in front of Elliot responded.

Her voice was deeper than he'd expected and her short blonde locks shone under the down lights.

Her skin was tanned from the sun not a bottle, her green eyes twinkled and her forearms were toned. She looked like she worked out.

She was staring at him as her finger twirled the strawberry round and round the glass before she sucked on the dampness.

He felt the energy.

Predatory, aggressive – masculine almost.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek.

He noticed his partner approaching from behind Charlie and they locked eyes. He could tell Olivia caught his relief from her impending interruption.

He expected her to stop in between the two of them and join the conversation but instead she moved in close to Elliot, an arm snaking into his.

She held his forearm as she clasped her champagne glass in her other.

It almost felt territorial.

He watched the blonde girls eyes move across to Olivia's tracing, assessing, analysing. He wondered what is like for women, if they get as lost in Olivia's beauty as men do.

"Charlie," Elliot's voice was suddenly gravely. "This is my wife Olivia."

The words resounded in his mind, echoing another time, another life perhaps.

Charlie didn't speak, she just continued to run her eyes over Olivia's features until they dipped downward roaming over the bronze of her cleavage, appreciatively.

_Approvingly._

He felt Olivia shift uncomfortably on the spot.

"Nice to meet you Olivia."

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They sat in a circle.

Shag skin carpet tickled Olivia's thighs.

She tucked her legs under her body as gracefully as possible and her hand reached out clutching the empty bottle of Dom Perignon.

There was tension in the room, the distant drone of classical music radiating from the hotel speakers.

Her heart thumped and she closed her eyes.

She spun the bottle once and her stomach turned.

It swiped past Jack, Charlie, a red headed woman she hasn't been introduced to yet, Rodney the host of the party, Elliot, then herself before it skittered around full circle again and again.

It landed on Jack.

She watched his eyes light up at the notion and her stomach flipped.

She sat back on her legs and didn't dare chance a glance at Elliot. She pretended he wasn't in the room. It was the only way she could do this.

Jack was sitting to her left so it didn't take long for their lips to brush. She hesitated only slightly before she closed her mouth over his.

She felt every eye in the room on her right now as Jack deepened the kiss, a hand coming up and coating the side of her cheek.

He was soft with her.

She tasted the champagne on his tongue and it was the only part of it she enjoyed.

She didn't let it last long before she pulled back, taking a breath and running a hand absently through her shoulder length curls.

She still couldn't look at Elliot.

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"My turn," Charlie's voice broke through the drone of quiet chatter and Elliot didn't know why, but he tensed.

He was still thinking about that pricks lips on his partner and how well she just handled herself.

She was calm, collected – yet his insides felt like they were on fire.

She still hadn't looked at him but he could see the flush in her cheeks, the pink swell of her lips and he ignored that feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He watched the bottle spin chaotically from Charlie's force, round and round, flipping off it's axis until it started to taper down.

It came to a slow in front of his bent knees but inched a little further, halting directly between him and Olivia.

His eyes flicked up to Charlie before they darted across to Olivia.

It was directly between them.

He was questioning Olivia with his eyes and she narrowed hers in warning. _Don't you dare._

"Looks like we have a tie," Charlie mused.

Elliot pulled his eyes away from Olivia's heated stare.

"Spin again," he tried to sound flippant but his voice cracked slightly.

Charlie shook her head and started to crawl towards the bottle until it stopped between her legs.

Elliot eyes dipped unconsciously down to her cleavage, the neckline of her burgundy dress dipped low enough that he could see the base of her black bra. Her breasts were modest yet firm but had nothing on Olivia's.

His gaze moved back up to see Charlie was no longer eyeing the bottle – she was watching him copping an eyeful.

He didn't miss a beat.

"It's closer to my wife."

The words came out before he could stop himself but it was closer. _Marginally._

He was still going to hell.

He could feel Olivia seething beside him and Charlie's green eyes sparkled in response as they flicked across to Olivia.

He felt his partner panicking. _He was dead. He was fucking dead._

"It's even," Olivia's voice was low, measured and she was a damn pro at masking the anger that he was certain was bubbling within.

Charlie's face morphed into a wicked smile until her eyes moved back to his.

"Then I get you both."

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**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

She will kill Elliot.

She will literally rip his insides out for this.

Charlie was an attractive woman, there was no doubt about that but there was something about her that shook Olivia.

Tipped her off her axis.

She couldn't do this.

"Who wants to go first?" Charlie whispered playfully.

Her stomach dropped. _Please Elliot, please take this for her._

Then it was as if he had heard her internal plea because he was already crawling, his hand reaching out, snaking around the back of Charlie's head and pulling her forward.

Olivia's breath caught when she saw the intensity, the strength as his lips crashed against hers.

Her eyes were fixated. She couldn't look away.

The image jarred her, knocked the wind out of her. She should have gone first she thinks, or better yet just accepted that the bottle was closer to her because watching this was far worse than holding up her end of the bargain.

Elliot tiled his head and she watched his tongue plunge between her lips, Charlie reacting with a breathless gasp.

It hit Olivia between her legs.

_And through the heart._

She could tell Charlie hadn't been prepared for his intensity but as the kiss continued she watched her start to match him push for pull.

It burned. It physically burned to watch them but at the same time Elliot's tongue was between Charlie's lips.

The lips that in moments would be on hers.

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Olivia felt the whole room watching as the scene in front of them played out.

The nerves had become so overwhelming her body must have gone into shock because she was in a daze now. Her heartbeat had slowed to the tempo of the soothing music.

She felt high.

She was staring at Charlie's emerald irises and noticed for the first time the tiny flecks of yellow.

She felt Elliot's heated gaze searing her profile and she knew the view he would have would be just as confronting as hers had been.

Charlie was the one to break their stand off, crawling further forward until their knees bumped lightly.

Olivia's eyes dipped down capturing the smudged lipstick from the force of Elliot's mouth.

Her stomach flittered.

She couldn't think about this anymore.

Olivia leaned forward, her fingers smoothing across Charlie's cheek as she brought her swollen lips flush up against hers.

The silence in the room was deafening.

Charlie tilted her head immediately in response and it was seconds before her tongue was sliding between Olivia's lips.

_She could taste him._

Charlie's palm slid up the back of her neck, her fingers gliding through Olivia's curls, her skin erupting in a flood of goosebumps.

She braced herself as Charlie's hand moved down the column of her throat until her thumb brushed across her pulse point. She could feel Elliot's gaze and as she closed her eyes she felt his mouth, sliding over Charlie's – over hers. Her body stirred and it was a world away from the kiss she shared with Jack.

She tilted her head, this time driving her tongue between Charlie's lips, the muffle of Charlie's moan getting stifled by her mouth.

Charlie's soft fingers teased her collarbone, her thumb sinking into the dip before she ran it across the length of her bare shoulder.

Olivia could barely breathe.

Charlie was the first to pull away, the slick sound of their lips parting echoing through the quiet room.

She stared ahead. At green, at the mess she'd made of Charlie's crimson lipstick that was likely now marking her own.

She ignored the stirring in her lower belly and attributed the hardness of her nipples to the deep chill in the air tonight.

Charlie looked pleased with herself.

She didn't dare look at Elliot.

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_Fuck._

His chest was tight.

He realised he hadn't taken a breath since Olivia's lips met with Charlie's.

He needed oxygen, he needed to breathe, _now_ - or he would pass out within moments. He sucked in a quiet breath and shifted on the floor.

_Jesus_ his pants were tight.

He moved his hands stealthily downward, resting them limply in his lap, shielding his budding erection from view.

He would never sleep again - not with that image ingrained in his mind.

Olivia still wasn't looking his way and he was beyond grateful. It was Charlie however that turned a fraction, her eyes assessing, gauging his reaction until they dipped down to his lap.

He saw the enjoyment ripple across her face.

They needed to leave he thinks, _now_ - he needed to calm his body down because he couldn't focus on the case now. He couldn't focus on anything except his partners full lips sliding across Charlie's, Olivia's tongue driving between-

_Fuck._ He should have looked away because he saw every intricate detail. The flush in her cheeks, the goosebumps on her skin, her bodies uninhibited response to Charlie.

He was turned on, clearly - but a part of him was ..

Jealous.

_He wanted to cause that._

He watched as Charlie sat back on her heels, casually swiping at her lips as if it were nothing.

He should feel relieved right now, because the worst was over right? They'd complied to save face and their cover was still intact. He should be thanking his lucky stars but as Charlie's fingers toyed lazily with the mouth of the empty bottle a dark feeling washed over him.

Perhaps they weren't out of the woods just yet.

His heartbeat was a heavy thud against his ribcage and as her mouth parted her low voice grated through the silence.

"Now you two."

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TBC


	3. Chapter 3

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't move, her whole body was frozen.

_Now you two._

No. She just couldn't. _They_ couldn't.

Kissing a strange man was one thing, kissing a _woman_ was another, but kissing Elliot..

"What are you waiting for?" Charlie's breathy voice filtered through the space between her and Elliot and she felt the tension beside her ripening to a peak.

She desperately wanted to turn towards Elliot - make the slightest amount of eye contact, gauge where his headspace was on this.

But she couldn't move.

She'd have to do this. _They'd_ have to do this. What plausible excuse could they have to get out of -

"It's not our turn," Elliot's voice came from her right, halting her thoughts. Olivia blinked – once, twice. She still didn't turn, didn't flinch just continued to look straight on at Charlie.

With four words Elliot had effectively saved them from having to comply. The relief should be pouring through her right now - she should be fucking ecstatic. She damn well shouldn't be feeling anything but elation but it was already there swarming through her veins like toxin.

_Disappointment. _

The prospect of his lips, his mouth, his hands - all tangible realities that had seeped into her mind, her _body_ within seconds.

"I don't care," Charlie whispered almost through gritted teeth and just like that Olivia's heart-rate shot back up. The possibility was back on the table. A flood of anticipation spurred through her body as she tried to control her breathing.

"Charlie.. baby," Rodney's voice cooed from the circle and Olivia watched the middle aged balding man crawl up behind Charlie. He slunk a hand around her waist and hoisted her slightly backward until her ass perched on his bent knees.

"Baby there are rules," his deep voice rumbled into her neck and just like that Charlie softened her stance. The breaks had been put on.

Olivia chewed on the inside of her lip.

_Fuck the rules._

"Fine," Charlie breathed out a sigh of defeat and Olivia counted the beats of silence as her eyes moved lazily from Olivia's to Elliot's.

She saw the effect Rodney had over Charlie and it wasn't power, or domination, it was mutual respect. Devotion.

It became clear then, that Rodney was the ringleader in this operation.

As the moments ticked by Olivia watched as Charlie started to turn, brushing her lips seductively across Rodney's jaw line before she spoke.

"But I get to choose the next game."

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_The next game._

There was more?

He was still getting over the fact that he had metaphorically come within an inch of Olivia's mouth. He still couldn't believe he had said it.

_It's not our turn. _

But he'd felt the tension immediately escalate from Olivia as soon as Charlie had uttered her demand.

He did it for her.

They could have just complied. The prospect of uncomfortable situations had been raised back at the precinct. When Cragen brought it up, they'd touched on it in a general sense but there was a mutual agreement.

They'd do what they had to do.

Now there was _more._

More uncertainty, more potentially dangerous, boundary crossing positions for them to face.

Olivia had barely looked his way all night and it was starting to worry him. He needed her eye contact. He needed reassurance that whatever this next game was she could handle it.

Just a split second was all he needed.

His hand moved out to grasp Olivia's forearm but it was too late, she was already complying, standing up as instructed.

Charlie came up behind her with something in her hands and he narrowed his eyes until the object was made clear.

A silk scarf.

The panic set in. Headboards, table legs, Olivia tied up. _Bound._ His mind couldn't help but assume the worst. He needed her to look at her. He needed her to see the warning in his eyes, he was stopping this.

He stepped forward but it was too late because Charlie was already hoisting the scarf over Olivia's head, black silk now covering her eyes.

Elliot swallowed. All he wanted was some damn eye contact and now she was literally striped of her sight.

As soon as the blindfold was secure he watched Charlie's eyes flick immediately to his and her lips curled into a mischievous smile. Her hands were still planted on Olivia's shoulders and he watched Charlie's thumb smooth ever so gently back and forth across her bare skin.

"Ok," she said quietly. "This next game is a test."

He noticed Olivia's fingers flex in response and he knew there was already a substantial level of discomfort. Not only had she been stripped of her sight but now Charlie was going to _test_ her.

Charlie's eyes finally moved off Elliot and across to where Rodney and Jack were standing.

"Boys," she smiled knowingly and Elliot's stomach dropped. Whatever this test involved included the men in the room. He couldn't watch anymore - he couldn't watch them touch her.

"Line up," she instructed and Elliot watched Rodney and Jack remove the steps, coming to a stop in front of Olivia.

"You too Elliot," Charlie motioned and Elliot slowly joined the line up, his insides reeling.

"This game is to test how well you know your partner," Charlie spoke softly with a hint of a smile in her words. "Olivia will _feel_ her way through until she finds her husband."

Elliot chewed on the inside of his lip.

"If she guesses wrong," Charlie whispered, her hands sliding over Olivia's shoulders and down her upper arms before squeezing, "there will be a punishment."

He watched Olivia shiver in response, wavering somewhat on the spot but Charlie didn't waste any time - she was already walking Olivia forward stopping her in front of Jack. She directed her hands upward until Olivia's fingers brushed against the cotton of Jack's shirt.

She was tentative at first but then began to move on her own accord, feeling - seeking. He watched her smooth over the ridges of Jack's shoulders, measuring, gauging until they slowly slid up the column of his neck.

Her slim fingers trailed across his jaw line, stopping to frame his face. He watched the bastards lips part as he gazed at her mouth as if he were moments from leaning down and kissing her.

As her fingers worked over his cheekbones, across the bridge nose and over his eyebrows Elliot's fingers curled over.

This was torture. Pure torture but Elliot could help but fixate on the fact that soon her hands will be on him.

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TBC


	4. Chapter 4

It's not him.

She was 95% sure.

80%..

Fuck. She didn't think it would be this hard but the nerves coupled with the loss of sight was making her doubt her hands, her touch – his body.

To be fair she hadn't made a habit of touching Elliot.. really feeling him. All she had to go by was the image of him – the one that had been ingrained in her mind for 12 long years.

But still. Doubt and the looming prospect of said _punishment_ wasn't letting her make this decision lightly.

She felt Charlie grasp her upper arms and suddenly she was being steered away from the man she was fairly certain was Jack. Olivia walked a couple of paces to her right before Charlie stopped her.

_Great._ Apparently there was a time limit, which meant she didn't have long to assess. She felt Charlie encircle her wrists and step forward until her breasts pushed purposefully into her back. The warm puffs of air that tickled the back of Olivia's neck shot shivers up her spine.

Charlie moved her hands further outward until they bumped a body she didn't expect to be so close. She recoiled in reflex before she softened, moving her hands back to the body in front of her. Charlie stepped away and she held her breath as she slid her hands upward, over a chest, towards what appeared to be broad shoulders. The body in front of her was larger, firmer and she could feel similarities to Elliot. But there was also a looming sense of uncertainty because she knew Rodney was just as built.

As she continued her exploration of the man in front of her she tried to use height as a gauge her high heels were throwing her off. She was at a loss - for all she knew she could be touching Elliot, Rodney _or_ Jack right now.

She was screwed.

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He was next.

Elliot watched her invest far too much interest in Rodney's body and he was bordering on offended.

She should know. She should know in a second if she were touching her partner of 12 years.

_He fucking would._

Her hands were still roaming over his chest, his arms, his neck and he didn't miss the predatory look in Rodney's eyes as they slid down the low dip of her cleavage.

As Olivia ran her fingers over his cheeks, stepping slightly closer he could see Rodney's fingers flex with the need to touch her.

Charlie was giving him a look, glaring at him as if to say do it and die but it wasn't long before Rodney's hand lifted, heading toward Olivia's hip. Charlie yanked her further down the line before he had a chance to make contact.

She stopped Olivia in front of Elliot and he could see she was looking a little thrown and disorientated. His eyes dipped down to her lips because it was all he had to gauge and she was pressing them together tightly.

She looked uncomfortable. Unsure.

As Charlie lifted her hands he held his breath. He wasn't ready for this - he wasn't ready to feel her roaming hands on his body. He was already responding to her touch and she hadn't even made contact yet.

He jolted as her fingers brushed his pecks and she flatted them against the hard wall of his chest. As her hands started to slide upward he heard her shallow breathing and he wondered if it had only just altered, or if he'd just noticed because she was closer.

He watched her mouth, fixated and he understood now how _fucking_ captivating she was up close. He didn't have to look away, he had unrestricted access to her lips, her mouth, the tops of her breasts in his peripheral vision. He had a free pass to look directly down her dress now if he chose to.

As her hands moved across the fabric of his shirt he swallowed when she hit skin, her slim fingers trailing up the column of his neck until they reached his jaw line. She measured, her thumbs swiping the outline of his face until they began to slide higher. He was sure she'd follow the same pattern she had with the others - neck, jaw, cheeks, nose, eyebrows, but with one hand still coating his cheek she suprized him. His body tensed when he realised her fingers were heading towards his mouth. As her thumb swiped across his thin lower lip his breath lodged deep in the back of his throat.

His mouth parted instinctually and her thumb brushed across his lip once more, a slight sheen of saliva lining her finger. He watched her mouth part then and it took every god damn amount of restraint in his body not to do it. Fuck he wanted to lean in, she had to know it was him and yet her fingers were still smoothing across his mouth. As his warm breaths continued to heat her fingers he felt it, the minuscule step that had brought her body ever so slightly closer to his. The fabric of her dress teased his fingertips and all he wanted was to reach out and skim his hand up the side of her thigh.

_Jesus_ all of a sudden she was close enough that he could feel her heated breaths on his mouth. He held his breath and just concentrated on hers. Her hands were moving again, leaving his face, coming down to his shoulders, sliding down his upper arms and his body was exploding with goose bumps. As her warm palms continued down his forearms he closed his eyes as her fingers skimmed over his. His heart was in his throat when he felt her slowly slide her hands into his, intertwining their fingers.

He opened his eyes just in time to see her forehead fall forward connecting with his chin and he tried to figure out if she had lost balance or if she was leaning into him on purpose. She squeezed his hands then, and although it was gentle he jolted at the touch. He got it then, she was asking him, without words for confirmation that it was him. He waited a few beats of silence, as the floral scent of her shampoo tickled his nostrils and the heat of her proximity stirred in the depths of his lower belly.

He gave into her then, squeezing the confirmation Olivia needed for this to end and it wasn't long until she pulled her body slowly away from his.

"This is my husband," she whispered.

And although she'd spoken softly the slight crack in her voice hadn't escaped him.

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TBC


	5. Chapter 5

The elevator ride was a steal case of tension.

Olivia watched the light above their heads slowly flick over at snails pace.

23

24

25

She had known. It had been immediate. The moment her palms connected with his chest any doubt or uncertainty that it was him had dissipated immediately. His scent, his body, the sound of his laboured breathing - all manifesting in a visual of the man she'd spent over a decade beside.

He was warm, firm - inviting. He was everything she'd never known and she took the opportunity – explored him, ran her hands over every mere inch.

She hadn't held back.

45

46

47

And now, as they stood side-by-side she felt it – the stiffness radiating off her partner as they watched the numbers tick over in silence. She tried to figure out if she'd crossed a line but where on earth was the line when she had no sight, no control, _no idea._ He couldn't blame her for this and yet the space he'd created between them might as well be a football field.

She swallowed, folding her arms tightly around her, her fingers digging into the clutch purse she carried. She pressed her lips together sealing the lip gloss she'd applied after their second game, after the touching - when she'd excused herself to the ladies so she could get a freaking grip.

That body.

She blinked away the feel of him. Her hands roaming over sheer muscle. Those lips under her fingers. His mouth parting.

_Fuck._

It had taken her a good while before she composed herself and rejoined the group. She'd returned only to find Elliot had already made an excuse for them to call it a night. It was crystal-clear. She'd crossed a line - a big one.

54

55

56

The ding rattled her back to reality and the moment the elevator doors opened she wasted no time making a beeline for their hotel room door.

She opened her clutch and as she fumbled for the room key she felt him come up behind her. She finally managed to slip the key into the slot after a few tries only to be faced with a red light. She felt his eyes on the back of her head as she tried again, more hastily this time only to get the same result.

She turned the card around and jammed it back in and that damn red light made her exhale heavily. Moments before she was about to lose it she felt him move in, his fingers brushing across hers as he pulled the card from her grasp.

"Slowly," he murmured into the back of her hair and damn it he was so fucking close, a shiver raced up her spine and goosebumps exploded across her flesh.

He inserted the key gently before retracting it at a devastatingly slow pace and the green lit up before her. When she made no motion to move forward his hand came out, pushing the door open, his chest accidently bumping her shoulder blades in the process.

The contact shook her from her daze, propelling her forward. The moment she stepped inside she dropped her purse on the kitchenette counter and headed straight for the bedroom.

Two steps towards the door and she felt him grasp her bare upper arm, the door clicking firmly closed behind them. She jolted, her breath catching as she stilled on her feet. She hadn't expected he'd touch her. It threw her, she wanted to resist him but the warmth of his palm made her soften.

She turned until their eyes met and she narrowed her eyebrows slightly in question. She had no idea what he was going to say to her and her heartbeat was a violent thump against her ribcage.

His eyes traced her features and when he softened his grip enough for her to easily slip out of her hold – she didn't. She watched him, his mouth parting in the makings of his response and he looked lost, unsure.

"Liv," he began and he stepped closer, removing the only space she had to breathe the much-needed oxygen he was depriving her of.

She saw it in his eyes, the question. This was it, he was calling her on it.

She panicked.

"We've gotta call this in," she fumbled cutting him off before he began and she didn't wait for a response. His piercing blue eyes had already knocked the wind out of her and she needed to create space. She slipped her arm from his loose hold and continued her path to the bedroom praying he wouldn't follow her.

She closed the door behind her a little too loudly and when she was enveloped in silence, she let out the breath she'd been holding.

When she caught herself in the full-length mirror beside the king sized bed the amount of bare skin rocked her. The dress was short and low and uncomfortable and she was already dragging the straps down her shoulders, unzipping it from behind. The light material dropped to her ankles and she kicked it to the side, slipping her feet out of the strappy heels.

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When she emerged from the bedroom she was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a grey hoodie and like a switch had been flicked she felt in control again. She could handle this, it was just Elliot - just her partner, just another case they had to solve despite the unorthodox situation.

She spotted the back of his head as he sat on the couch, the computer screen lit up in front of him and cleared her throat.

"Cragen on standby?" she asked, watching him set up the Skype call.

"Five minutes," he responded without looking up and she wondered if he was pissed at her dismissal earlier, or just absorbed in the set up.

She sat down leaving a breadth of space between them. As he entered their login information she pretended to focus on the screen but instead she took in his stance, his concentration, the fact that he'd removed his tie and rolled up his sleeves in her absence. She took a deep breath and wondered if she'd ever be able to focus again.

A few beats of silence past until the words he spoke rocked her.

"We're pulling the plug," he told her in a breath and her heartbeat immediately escalated. Her mind raced - she'd gone too far, he was calling her on it and he was ending this. She sat further forward, bracing her elbows on her thighs as she tried to compile a response.

"El," she started, immediately on the defence, ready to justify her actions. When he finally turned to meet her gaze, the intensity of his eyes shook her. Her mouth parted, ready to deny all but he didn't get her the chance.

"The risk is too high," he told her firmly and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, her heartbeat was still thumping in languid bursts but suddenly she wasn't so sure they were on the same page.

She stared at him, confused by the shift in gears and she watched him scrub his hands down his face, the way he did when he was beyond frustrated.

"It's only going to escalate," his words were muffled by his palms and she screwed up her face in confusion.

That was the point, she wanted to say. The further they pushed this, the closer they got to solving the case. Hell, what they endured tonight was tame compared to most of their undercover ops.

It hit her then. She realized she might only have half the story, that quite possibly something happened when she'd excused herself. She took a deep breath, and waded through the beats of silence. When he gave her no indication of continuing she braced herself.

"Elliot," she drew his name out on a heavy breath. "What are you not telling me?"

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TBC


	6. Chapter 6

She had changed out of the dress.

Thank God for that.

He could no longer see the generous swell of her breasts, or those long tanned legs curtained by sheer yellow material. He saw his partner, in a nondescript hoodie and jeans – her dark brown eyes probing his for answers.

Intently.

But it wasn't long until his eye line slipped downward and he realized that although her body was covered, he could still see her lips. That mouth, the fresh layer of gloss she applied in an attempt to hide the fact that they were swollen, bruised.

From Charlie's mouth.

"Elliot," her voice was low, impatient – uneasy almost and he dragged his eyes up from her mouth and he wasn't even apologetic. His desire for her was as obvious as hell now and he realized he had no hope in hell of hiding it anymore.

Not after tonight.

"Tell me what happened," she demanded, dismissing his blatant appraisal, but the waver in her voice hadn't escaped him. He could tell she was nervous, uncomfortable almost, and he needed to stop eying her like she was dinner.

He cleared his throat, finally turning away from her, staring mindlessly at the computer screen praying for Cragen's face to pop up.

"Trust me," his voice grated because he needed her to know this was serious. "It's not worth it."

He felt it then, the couch shifting beneath her weight as she slid across and his fingers tensed as she stilled mere inches away.

"Elliot we're partners - _you_ don't get to decide this," her voice was a near rasp and he felt her anger bubbling at his dismissal.

"How far are you willing to-" he turned to her then and his voice broke off mid sentence because her face was so damn close he could barely breathe.

She was staring at him, her eyebrows furrowed in irritation but he saw it, her heartbeat thumping rapidly beneath the layers. He could tell she was just as blindsided by tonight as he was.

"..take this," he finished barely audible, and he didn't think he could control it anymore. He didn't think he had it in him to look away, to move away - to not fucking pull those damn lips flush up against his. How the hell he was supposed to sleep a room away from her tonight was beyond him.

"You tell me," she countered, and his mouth was dry as the desert because he knew in 12 years her limits stretched beyond reasonable boundaries. Kissing Stuckey, stripping off for Bushido, letting Bogden grope her.. Harris.

No.

Damn it, he was _fucking_ done with this. _She_ was done with this.

"This ends tonight," he dismissed, moving forward, intent on hitting the call button on their Skype call when she reached forward, encircling his wrist firmly. It was immediate, the moment she made contact his control dissipated and he twisted his wrist around and seizing hers instead.

The anger over her carelessness in the past coupled with her inevitable stubbornness caused him to yank her closer until he grasped her other wrist. He heard her breath catch in shock as she gave into physics, practically face-planting into his cheek.

"Elliot-" she choked, trying to pull herself backward, but she was losing out to gravity as she fell into his strong pull. He didn't quite know what the hell he was doing, but the more she resisted, the tighter he held her.

He turned his face, his lips hovering above her ear and his voice was scratchy when he said it.

"We continue this and you're gonna have to do a lot more than cop a feel," he rasped above her ear. A sound of exertion left the back of her throat but it might as well have been a moan. Suddenly he felt drunk off her perfume, her scent, the heat of her breath on his cheek. This was it, he was going to turn, seal her lips with his and plunge his tongue into the depths of her mouth. _Christ._ He softened his grip for a mere millisecond and it was all she needed to pull her wrists completely from his hold.

"The hell," she seethed, pulling back immediately, pushing him hard in the chest before she slunk back into the couch, catching her breath. His hands were shaking and he'd bit into his lip so hard he could practically taste blood. She was staring at him in shock, he'd expected to see panic, alarm but instead just disbelief and something else he couldn't put his finger on.

He needed to apologize - and now. His mouth wouldn't co-operate but he was hoping to high hell that the look in his eyes was redemption enough.

He could still hear her soft pants filling his ears, seeping into his body and hitting him deep in the lower belly. He realized then that the main reason he wanted this to end - the one that scared him the most, was his severe lack of restraint when it came to her now, because it was dwindling by the second.

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"I'm sorry," his voice cracked.

She had heard the apology, it had registered, as had the look of remorse in his eyes but she wasn't listening. Her focus was still on his strength, on his hold, on the way his fingers felt wrapped around her wrists, ceasing her, pulling her into him.

Her focus was on his complete loss of control with her which up until tonight he'd always kept in check. She should be pissed, she should be livid, she should have slugged the son of a bitch for grabbing her like that, but damn it – she couldn't help it. She was turned on.

_We continue this and you're gonna have to do a lot more than cop a feel._

She swallowed. It was supposed to deter her, discourage her - but the barrage of scenarios were already at the forefront, flashing through her mind like a flipbook of smut.

"Liv," she heard him whisper but her mouth was still dry from the possibilities, from the anticipation. She felt the couch bow under her and it wasn't until his hand reached out, heading towards her shoulder that something inside her snapped.

She whacked his arm clean away. "Don't touch me," she rasped and she knew the shift in gears would have been a fist to the gut for him but if she didn't go with anger right now, she didn't trust the alternative.

He looked blindsided but she went with it, because damn it, he deserved a wake up call after that performance. She slid further forward, until she met him face-to-face, her eyes darting between his.

"Make the call Elliot," she rasped with all the seriousness she could muster, "and do your goddamned job."

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TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks for the words guys, most appreciated.

Lauren – 'the other place' is svufiction dot com. Amazing site if you haven't been before. P.S. Your commitment to my stories continues to amaze me.

Merry New Years all.

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He made the call.

The dial tone filled the silence between them as he focused on the screen and not her stifling presence. What the _hel_ just happened? He'd lost complete control, grabbed her, ceased her - threatened her. _No_. He didn't threaten her, he had just been warning her.

_We continue this and you're going to have to do a lot more cop a feel._

And damn it he was right.

Her lack of concern was bordering on alarming, this wasn't just another day at the office. This was a tangible, smothering reality and her inability to be able to gauge that anymore sent a flood of panic up his spine. He knewshe'd push for them to continue this case and the dangerous possibilities had flooded his mind immediately, severing any semblance of rationalism left within him.

He wanted to apologize again, but apologizing would accept accountability and he wasn't sorry about his take on this, just his tactless approach. He'd just have to stick to his guns if he had any hope of bringing this case to an end.

He counted the irate inhale verse exhales from the sofa beside him when finally Cragen's face appeared on the screen.

"Cap," he launched in immediately, before she had a chance to take the lead on this and he felt the tension escalate immediately. She was on edge and he tried to ignore the way her fingers flexed uneasily against her thighs.

"You two ok?" Cragen asked with an edge of concern.

"We're fine Cap," Olivia responded, beating him to the punch. She rested her elbows on her thighs, moving a little further forward and the moment her mouth made motions to continue he launched in.

"Look Cap, this is gonna require far more depth than anticipated," he cut her off. He moved further forward, incidentally knocking Olivia's knee so he could get closer to the camera. "They've noticed us sure, but we're not a shoe-in. They're big on tests, games – they're gonna put us through the ringer before we get half a chance of getting on that boat."

He watched out of the corner of his eyes as Olivia dug her nails into her clasped hands. He could almost taste her fury.

"You saying we should cut our losses?" Cragen frowned, unable to hide the disappointment in the turn of events. Elliot's mouth parted in response, but Cragen was already continuing.

"Look phase one is the dinner party, stage 2 is a second invitation at the hotel, stage 3 is the charter boat," Cragen reminded him. "So, I'd suggest we wait and see if you two even get that second invitation."

Elliot narrowed his eyes, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Of course they would fucking get a second invitation. Despite his words, despite his reasoning – he was full of shit. They were a shoe-in. When he took too long to construct the next stage of his rebuttal he realised he'd left the door wide open for Olivia.

"Agreed Cap, we've come this far," Olivia began, "We'll see if we get through to stage 2, then we can ascertain the risk factor."

Elliot scoffed, outwardly sinking back into the couch cushion in earnest. He wanted to laugh but instead, just shook his head and silently stewed.

"Elliot," Cragen questioned apprehensively after witnessing his less than subtle reaction, but it was futile - Cragen wasn't close enough to understand and Olivia wasn't willing to accept the severity.

"Fine," he relented, "we'll check in with you once we hear more." Before Cragen had a chance to respond Elliot moved forward and stabbed definitively at the 'end call' button.

A surge of silence engulfed the room and Elliot was far enough forward on the couch that he couldn't see her face. And just as well. He moved his clasped hands up to his face and scrubbed downward in intense frustration. _Fuck_ he was pissed off, and he needed just a minute to calm himself down because the fury that was pulsing through his veins right now was palpable. If she so much as said a word he was going to explode. He needed to get out of there, away from her, away from this situation. He needed some space, only she had the bedroom tonight and he had this uncomfortable showroom couch.

He counted his breaths, trying to ease his nerves but the longer the silence continued, the less patience he seemed to be able to grasp. Now he _wanted_ her to say something, _anything_ and her prolonged silence was no longer a relief – just an intoxicating burden.

He started to feel movement beside him and when he opened his eyes, he caught sight of her rounding the couch and heading towards the bedroom door. His eyebrows rose in shock and when the door closed firmly behind her, his mouth practically dropped.

_That was it?_ She was just going to walk away from this and sleep now? Did she really think she was going to turn down the comforter of that king size bed and have a blissful snooze while he sat out here banging his head against the coffee table?

_Oh hell no._

He got up, the fury spurring through his veins and filtering into his fists as he stalked towards the bedroom door. He turned the door handle without any forewarning and barged into the room.

He caught sight of her immediately, hoodie-less, in the process of pealing off her white t-shirt. He saw the deep bronze of her stomach and the white lace that hugged her ample breasts. The deep v of cleavage made his mind spin and he was a prick because he wasn't looking away.

She yanked her t-shirt back down her stomach in haste and his eyes shot up from her breasts to her face. When he saw the look in her eyes, he was suddenly kicking himself for not knocking first.

She stalked towards him, her eyes shooting him daggers.

"Jesus Elliot, you wanna knock?" she seethed, and although he could feel his cheeks igniting he didn't let the embarrassment take over. Instead he rode the wave of anger, because it was the only way he had a hope in hell of getting to the shore.

"If you're concerned about modesty Olivia, then we might as well pack up shop now." He continued towards her until he was closing in on her personal space, not dropping the eye contact for a second. He was being a dick, he was well aware of this but the anger from her walk out still hadn't subsided.

"I'm done discussing this," she told him, eying him like the devil as he continued to move closer.

"Well I'm not," he stabbed back, ignoring the warning in her eyes as he came to a stop mere inches away from her. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into," he said through gritted teeth.

"Then enlighten me." Her words were laced in confrontation but the small step back she took registered clear. He was intimidating her - she wasn't sure how to take him tonight, or how far he was going to take this.

"Charlie's not convinced," he sighed heavily, "she knows something's off and has made it clear she intends to find out." He dropped the bomb he'd been holding in all night, hoping it would make her rethink the cases validity. He searched her eyes for some kind of reaction to what he was telling her but all she did was scoff and narrow her eyes at him.

"Well maybe next time someone tells you to kiss your wife - you do it," she stabbed firmly before turning away from him.

That was it. The straw. The camel. It's fucking back because that was a cheap ass shot and she knew it. He felt his hands move then and he was screaming at himself not to do it but he had already grabbed her arm, swinging her back around.

"Really Olivia," he whispered, his thumb pressing firmly into the muscle of her bicep as he pulled her closer towards him and he felt her resistance immediately. "You're blaming me for this?"

She attempted to yank herself out of his hold and when she couldn't wretch out, she planted a hand on the wall of his chest. He let her push at him, and tried not to revel in the way her resistance and proximity, made the heat seep into the depth of his lower belly.

All he could smell was the vanilla from her shampoo and when a low noise of exertion came out of her mouth he lost any last hope of restraint. He slipped his other hand behind her head, driving his fingers through her curls and drew her mouth towards his. Just as his lips smoothed over hers, she turned to the side, his mouth skimming her cheek until they reached the base of her ear.

The frustration was palpable.

"Kiss me goddamn it," he rasped into her ear, "and get it over with." His voice dragged as he pulled her into his chest and suddenly her breasts were pressed up against him. His fingers sunk into the thin material of her t-shirt that was hiking up her back and she was fighting this, fighting him. But he felt it - the undeniable scrape of her erect nipples through cotton. _Christ._

She was turned on.

The pang of confirmation hit him between the legs and he did waste any time, he pulled her face forward, closing his mouth over hers in one definitive moment. He grasped her lips between his and held them for a few beats before he released them, drawing in the much needed oxygen between them. When he moved in for more, it was her bottom lip that he pulled between his and sucked and she made a low noise. It had been muffled by his mouth but dear God it sounded like a moan. He was still holding her bicep, the other hand buried in her hair and all he was focusing on now was her hip that was evident against his crotch.

She opened her mouth to take a breath and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, closing his lips firmly over hers. Her hand that had been planted on his chest in protest had slipped off his body and he took it as a sign, pulling her in closer, removing the last remaining space between their bodies. The top of her thigh pressed up against his crotch and he lost it, moaning into her mouth as he drove his tongue between her lips. It was heat, and sweetness, and when his tongue swiped definitively over hers it emitted a pained noise from the back of her throat.

_Christ._

The pang from her reaction hit him hard between his legs and his mouth became relentless on hers. His lips, tongue, his teeth all coming into play as he ransacked her mouth. It wasn't until he tilted his head to deepen the kiss that she managed to speak.

"S-stop," she whispered, her lips muffled by his and he heard the weakness in her voice. She was no longer physically resisting him but he adhered to her command, breaking off the kiss - his hands slipping from his hold on her.

The sudden lack of stability made her falter, tipping slightly backwards until her knees connected with the back of he bed. His hand came out to grab her but she didn't take it, instead she managed to steady herself. She was staring at him with a great deal of disbelief but he couldn't discount the heat in her cheeks and the desire in her eyes.

She just shook her head, scrubbing a hand down her face in shock until it covered her mouth. She looked away because he knew she couldn't face this right now - face him.

"What the hell was that?" she whispered against the palm of her hand.

He looked away for a mere moment before his eyes returned to the side of her face.

"Just the beginning."

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

_Just the beginning._

Her heart thumped violently against her ribcage and she started to feel faint. Her hands were clammy, her mouth was dry and she now understood the expression weak at the knees because she was moments from toppling over.

Her lips were swollen from his and her whole body was tingling.

This is the part where she was supposed to yell at him. Tell him he'd crossed a huge fucking line and that he needed to back off. His hands on her, rough and demanding – she'd never felt his strength like this before. She'd seen him get heavy handed with suspects, perps, unco-operating witnesses but up until now she'd never felt it. Tasted it.

She shouldn't like it. It's fucked up to like it. Even he'd apologized for losing control. The rationale she gave herself was that it was Elliot, he was hotheaded, short fused and demanding - but he'd never hurt her. Despite his out of character performance tonight, she still felt safe in his presence.

_Marginally._

She should tell him to get out. And now. Because he doesn't deserve anything more than a cold hard reality check. But his presence is stifling her inability to formulate words and all she can feel is his lips, his mouth, his hands and his body.

Her eye line is directed at a tiny scuffmark on the carpet which she finds odd because this place is a palace. It's when he flexes his fingers that she notices the gold band. The one that matches the ring on her left hand – only hers is fake. That's when it hits - none of this is real, it's all complete and utter BS.

"You need to go," she says firmly but she still can't look at him, because he'll be able to see how hard this is for her and she knows he's notorious for latching onto the slightest bit of weakness she shows.

"No." He tells her, and it's definitive - he didn't miss a beat and as a result she allows her eyes to flick up to his because she needed him to take this seriously.

"Go," she demands, and her tone has morphed into a seriousness she usually reserves for perps, cases – the job. The instinct within her is to fight this – fight him but she could tell, the moment she locked onto blue that getting him to leave her room tonight wasn't going to be an easy task.

He doesn't say anything, and the demanding way in which he eyes her, causes her stomach to drop out from underneath her. She feels cornered, her feet feel as if they are cemented to the ground and she's well aware that she's trapped between a bed and Elliot Stabler.

"I'm not going to ask you again," she speaks through gritted teeth but even she could pick up on the waver in her voice. She was nervous, panicking – she'd never seen this side of her partner. Or more to the point - of herself.

"Good," he whispers and she watches as his eyes dip suddenly to her mouth, her lips – the carnage that he caused and she holds her breath. Her body is still tingling, her nipples are tight against the lace and when his eyes fall from her mouth to her breasts she loses it, stepping forward.

"Stop," she says roughly and she's in his face now so there's no space for him to ogle her body.

"Stop what?" he whispers and she's close enough that she sees him reaching for her, his hand going for her bicep but she's too fast and whacks his arm clean away, the slap of skin echoing through the room.

"Looking at me - _touching_ me," she says loudly but her voice cracks in the midst of it. There is so much emotional anger over his behavior tonight, but her body is betraying this fight because she is so – turned – on.

"No," he tells her again, and it's no longer demanding, it's a whisper - and dear God, his refusal makes her heart rate accelerate in anticipation. Her mouth is as dry as a dessert and her body is buzzing, aching to be touched.

She tries to rationalize this in her mind, trying every which way to make this ok, to make his behavior and her compliance acceptable in some right. She realizes she must have taken too long because before she knew it he was stepping forward, his hands on her upper arms, chest pressing into hers, his body weight urging her backwards until suddenly she's losing her footing and she's horizontal.

Her back hits the mattress but it's his hard body that knocks the wind completely out of her. Her instincts are weakened but she still moves her hands, intent on pulling his arms off her but he ceases her wrists and plants them shoulder height on the mattress. She makes a noise of exertion and as his mouth dips down to her ear and she feels his crotch incidentally push into her upper thigh.

She should be thinking about how wrong this is and how she shouldn't be enjoying it, but fuck she can't breathe, or think or feel anything aside from his hard as hell body and the strength on her wrists.

"The hell-" she barely gets out the whisper with the weight on top of her. She is struggling to breathe, her chest rising and falling madly against the stonewall of his chest and she feels his lips scrape across the soft skin of her neck.

"Our lives are on the line Olivia," he whispers at the base of her ear, and her heart is beating a mile. All she can concentrate on is the breath that's heating her neck and the low tone in which he's adopted. When he shifts slightly she feels her t-shirt rise slightly, and the bare skin of his stomach smoothes over hers.

"And if you can't handle my eyes on you," he continues huskily and her mind is spinning because, because she could now feel the top of his thigh pressing against the denim between her legs, causing a flood of pleasure - inciting an undeniable ache.

She wanted to moan.

"Let alone my hands," he rasps into her ear as his grip pulses against her wrists. She arches her chest then, in mock resistance and she feels his body press into her harder. He has her completely at his mercy and she knows she should be livid – furious that he is doing this, but all she can think about is those hands, secure around her wrists, just itching for them to roam, unforgivingly downward – over her breasts, down her stomach, between her legs -

"Then we're screwed," his voice snaps her out of it and his firm tone, no longer a whisper makes her throat catch. She feels the pylons shift and it hits her like a freight train. This was never about his control or lack there of with her. It wasn't about sex or tension or his inability to restrain himself with her tonight. It was a lesson, a message - a fucking warning.

And a blunt one at that.

It was his last ditch attempt to scare her into ending this, to strip away her comfort, her assurance, her confidence. Well screw that. This wasn't going to end on a hotel bed at the four seasons.

She doesn't speak, she lets him think that she is still catching her breath so she can savor the few remaining seconds beneath Elliot Stabler. She relaxes her resistance against his hands that are still pinning her and allows her breathing come to a steady pace.

"Fine," she whispers as her eyes draw to a close and she can't help but sound defeated when she says it. "You've made your point." The acceptance and understanding in her voice must have spoken volumes because it wasn't long before she starts to feel him move, his hands relenting against her wrists until he's slowly lifting off her - careful not to crush her in his ascent.

She draws in the deep breath she'd forgone before expelling it just as quickly. She remains horizontal until her lungs are able to expand and collapse as required. When she finally looks up at him, he's watching her with an expression she can't seem to place and after a few silent beats he offers his outstretched hand.

She sits up then, slowly – first just bracing herself on her elbows before she continues to rise to her feet without assistance. She can still feel his eyes on her, but the shift is clear, he's no longer ogling her and it's a complete and utter mind fuck, because maybe he never had been. She tugs her t-shirt down her stomach and does her best not to waver on her feet.

Her throat is suddenly constricted and she feels as if she wants to clear it, but she refrains. She's looking him straight in the eyes, because anywhere else would admit something she refuses to acknowledge.

She draws in a deep breath then until she's able to gain some prospective, some sanity. She wants to narrow her eyes at him when she says it, but instead she lets the words trickle out effortlessly - decisively.

"Good night Elliot."

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry for the short and infrequent bursts!

I'll try and be better..

Thanks for reading!

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He wakes to a firm knock on the door.

For a moment he is unsure of where he is and it isn't until he turns, the slick leather catching the skin on his back that it hits.

The hotel. The case. _Last night._

He's hard. Boxer shorts and a light blanket that he'd found in the linen cupboard last night aren't doing a lot to hide his ache. As he scrubs his hand down his face he wonders just how the hell he is supposed to answer the door with this unforgiving hard-on.

He'd grabbed her. Kissed her. Pushed her onto the bed. _Jesus_. He had been on top of her, his body on hers. Holding her down. _ Fuck. _ He thought he'd crossed a line grabbing her on the couch, but now that barely seems like a blimp on the radar of his behavior last night.

He'd crossed an irreversible line 'd deserved a knee to the groin, a sucker punch to the face. But what he couldn't get his head around was that she'd barely fought him on it. In fact it had been quite the opposite. He'd expected to ignite a physical and verbal retaliation – not a wide-eyed, writhing, breathy - dismal display of resistance.

That's the turning point he'd been fixating on all night. Her reaction.

Or lack there of.

He keeps telling himself he'd gone in there to put an end to this case, to literally _push_ her to the brink so she'd agree to shut this down, but the thought he refuses to acknowledge – the one he won't allow himself to touch, is that he'd lost control.

Plain and simple.

Last night he'd been a ticking time bomb. He'd felt the restraint begin to trickle out in the elevator, then the moment the door to the hotel room closed the dam wall broke, escalating into a flash flood. He couldn't control his hands, his words – he _needed_ to touch her physically, even if it was just her arm or her wrist. He knows he fucked up, he knows this is his cross to bear, but in the same breath - as his mouth trailed the skin of her neck and his body pressed into hers - he felt it, it had been undeniable.

She'd arched into it – not away from it.

He's been hard ever since and as a result, had barely had a wink of sleep last night. He thinks it would have been somewhere around 3am when he finally drifted off. How the hell could he be expected to sleep knowing she was just a few feet away?

A second knock rattles him out of his state but he's still too lethargic to contemplate getting up yet. That's when he hears the door to her bedroom open and she's moving towards their guest without so much as a look in his direction. She's in a white tank top and light blue cotton pajama pants and he can't help but let his eyes drift downward, across her ass before he manages to tear his eyes away.

Jesus. What the hell is he doing? He doesn't know what on earth has gotten into him, but somewhere in between watching her kiss another woman – and feeling her hands glide intoxicatingly slowly over his body, the lines became blurred.

And his dick became hard.

He watches her open the door, propping himself up until he can see the hotel staff member greeting her with a trolley in his hands. He hears her tell the man they didn't order anything, but despite her front, the wheels are in motion and the tray is being wheeled into the living room.

"Compliments of the Foresters'," the waiter explains before retreating.

As the door clicks shut he watches her eyes move from the tray to his and it's the first time she'd made eye contact since he'd left her room last night. It triggers a pang of guilt - or regret or something similarity untoward in the pit of his stomach.

He remembers the kiss then, the loss of control. She'd tried to move away, out of his grasp, away from his lips, but something had snapped within and he knew in that moment – he'd make their lips meet. And there was nothing she could do to stop him. Period.

_S-stop.._

His eyes traced the dark circles under her eyes and suddenly a wave of nausea churned in the depths of his stomach because it was clear; he was the cause. And it's a confronting thought but maybe the only control she relinquished last night, was the control he took away from her.

_Christ, what has he done?_

"Liv," he says on an uneven breath, and her eyes dart away immediately – because she knows from the tone, the emotion, the slight tremble in his voice that he's about to apologise. And she doesn't want to hear it. In fact it appears that acknowledging any part of last night seems to be the furthest thing from her mind.

He gives her that at least. He counters her blatant discomfort by instead focusing his gaze on the silver lids covering their offerings. He has visions of eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns – but it strikes him as odd that he can't seem to smell any of the above.

"What's for breakfast?" he asks her, his voice is still groggy from lack of sleep and he watches her shoulders relax slightly. He takes comfort in the fact that she's seemingly more relaxed now that he's changed the subject.

She lifts one of the lids and he watches her eyebrows narrow in confusion. The top of the sofa is blocking his view, so he sits up just in time to see her lift up a gold piece of material.

He narrows his eyes, trying to decipher just what on earth it was but she was dropping it as quickly. She lifts up a small card, brimmed with gold trim - and reads the note in silence.

After a few beats pass he can no longer take it.

"What Liv?" he whispers, and his heart is racing, because he knows whatever it says, he doesn't want to hear it. Her eyes trace the words a few more times before she throws the card across to him and he catches it against his chest.

As she picks up the piece of gold material and heads towards the bedroom his eyes drift down to the small card.

_Join us, pool side. 10am._

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**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

The sun was practically scorching her skin.

Each time she moved just a fraction she felt the slick sheen of perspiration, under her back, behind her neck.. between her thighs.

If it weren't for the humidity, it might have been tolerable but she didn't know how much longer she could take this heat. She could hear the splashing, the playful squeals from the children in the resort pool beside them and she took a breath.

She wanted to submerge herself. She wanted to feel the cold wall of water slam into her body as she dove into it's revitalizing depths. But it was Elliot, laying to her left - taking up all the oxygen and ability to move her muscles that was stopping her.

Getting up would mean she'd have to avoid his chest, those arms – that body. She was still thinking about those hands, the ones that had kept her up for the most part of last night. Her heart rate had only just returned to a steady pace over the possessive, domineering way in which he'd gone after her. She'd like to think that after 12 years, she knew her partner inside out - every tick, every button, every mood and every reaction.

She was wrong.

Last night she'd seen a side she'd only ever caught glimpses of during a round with a perp, a passing look, or a session with his locker. She'd never seen that side come after her.

Ever.

And when he'd finally left her room last night, she'd expected herself to breathe a sigh of relief. She anticipated she'd be left with anger, hurt – fury. But as the door clicked shut, it hit her like a tone of bricks. She didn't want him to go, she didn't want him to stop. Those predatory eyes, those forceful hands - Elliot's dark side.

She wanted it back.

She heard a soft click and her eyes snapped open under the sunglasses she sported, and her heart rate was immediately on the incline. The click was followed by a slow squirt and she tensed. He was putting on suncream – on that chest, those arms, his legs.

She heard the slapping of skin, the slick sounds of him lathering the cream on his body and she closed her eyes. _Jesus. _She wouldn't look, she would even _entertain_ the idea of allowing that kind of imagery into her head. God knows what she'd do if he asked her to do his back.

"Here." His scratchy whisper shook her from her thoughts and she opened her eyes again, swallowing. When she didn't move from her position on her back, she felt the plastic of the bottle tap softly against her upper arm. It gave her shivers.

It wasn't an offer, it was a demand.

"I'm fine," her voice croaked slightly from infrequent use, because there was no way she was going to sit up in a skimpy two-piece and start lathering herself in front of him.

"You're gonna burn," his accent was thick, his tone less than impressed, the same way he'd speak to her when she refused to wait for backup.

She took a breath, why was she faltering? It was just Elliot, just her partner – aside from the glimpse she encountered last night, she knew how to handle this.

"Olive skin Elliot," she sighed doing the best to sound nonchalant, "I'll be fine," she explained, hoping he'd just drop the subject – and the sunscreen bottle. A few moments passed, and just when she thought she was out of the woods, he spoke again.

"You're already pink," he whispered in irritation.

Her stomach spiraled, that implied he was looking at her body. At her skin, at her bare stomach, bare legs and the tops of her breasts that were pushing out of the snug gold bikini top as she lay on her back. Christ, she had all the heat in the world pounding down on her yet she could feel her nipples hardening under the _possibility_ of his gaze. Moments from opening her mouth in rebuttal a voice cut her off.

"You should listen to your husband."

_Charlie._

Jesus. She couldn't catch a break.

She could tell it was Charlie immediately and the thought crossed her mind that she barely knew the woman, but it was something about that tone - the intent in her words, that had been ingrained into her mind from the moment she'd met the woman.

She opened her eyes just in time to see her clad in a turquoise bikini leaning over her sunbed, grasping the bottle from Elliot. She tried to sink further back into the chair to create some space between her face and Charlie's breasts.

"I'll get the drinks," she heard Rodney say as he dropped his towel on the sunbed next to hers. She was still watching Rodney on his pursuit to the bar when she heard the squirt and the cold cream splattered onto her stomach. She jumped slightly, her mouth opening in protest but it was too late, Charlie's hands were on her stomach smoothing the cream across her skin.

"1 in 5 people develop skin cancer Olivia," Charlie mused as her slim hands worked the cream over her stomach. "Olive skin doesn't make you the exception."

She wanted to rebut, to react but she was blindsided, caught off guard and Charlie was already squirting cream onto her chest. She felt the liquid pool into the crux of her neck and begin to descend between her breasts, she moved to catch it but she was too slow. Charlie's hands were already there, lathering in the milky residue, her hands smoothing across the swells of her cleavage without an ounce of hesitation.

She held her breath.

"Make yourself useful," Charlie motioned to Elliot with a gleam in her eye. The next thing she heard was the squeeze and the cold cream splattering onto her thighs. "Do her legs."

Olivia's stomach dropped, Elliot's hands on her legs, smoothing cream all the way from her toes to her bikini line.

Elliot sat up then, swung his legs over the side of the sunbed, latched onto the edge of hers and pulled it closer to him. Her heart rate escalated at the motion and even Charlie was caught off guard by his sudden compliance. She knew this had something to do with what had been insinuated last night, the idea that something was off between them – that maybe they weren't who they said they were.

She raises her legs slightly so her knees are peaked and her feet are planted firmly into the seat cushion. She can feel her body trembling slightly but somehow she manages to eliminate any wavering from her voice.

"Yes honey, make yourself useful," she sighs in jest as she leans back into the chair. She's acting the part, quietly enjoying the fact that Elliot has to serve her every need, but it doesn't last long because the moment she feels his hand latch onto her ankle any sense of cheek goes out the window. There is that strength again, that firm, masculine touch which up until now she didn't realize how much she'd been craving.

As he starts to smooth the cream in firmly, it counteracts the soft feminine touch that's still working across her chest. She bites down on the inside of her lip when she feels the cream on her thighs start to trickle downward – heading between her legs.

She feels his hand then, following the cream, lapping it in his palm and smoothing it across her inner thigh. His touch is unforgiving and her legs part involuntarily, granting the access he requires to move higher. She still hasn't let out the breath she's holding.

As his hands get intoxicatingly close to her bikini line she begs herself not to react, to just relax into it – enjoy it. Give off the impression that this is a standard for her, having her husbands hands between her legs, coating her inner thighs with cream.

_Jesus._

He's squirting more cream on and she feels it everywhere now, the tops of her thighs, her knees, her calf muscles, her ankles. She closes her eyes and her focus moves to Charlie's hands that are between her breasts, slipping into the gap between her cleavage. It's when she retreats, her fingers sliding a little too close to the edge that she feels it, her pinky skimming under material – coating the swell of her breast, swiping the side of her nipple.

_Fuck. _

Olivia clamps down on her lower lip and she's powerless against her bodies natural reaction as her nipple hardens from her touch. Elliot's hands are working her other leg and her chest is rising and falling rapidly now. Charlie moves across to her other breast and as her hand moves over her cleavage she waits. Her mouth is as dry as the desert when she feels her thumb slip under the material, and with far more purpose swipes across her nipple not once, twice – but three times. Her breathing is heavy and she feels Elliot's hands freeze between her legs. He's watching, she can feel his eyes on Charlie's hands, on her breast and he's gauging her reaction.

_Christ._

Charlie doesn't seem to be tapering down any time soon, and it isn't until her whole hand slips underneath her bikini and grasps her breast - that Olivia's mouth parts, somehow managing to stifle the moan that's lodged in her throat. Her hand slides across Elliot's bare knee and she digs her nails in firmly, praying he'd pick up on her need for him to stop this. It was broad daylight for crying out loud and there were kids around.

His hands are back in action then and she feels them sliding back down her thigh, over her calf muscle towards her ankle and just as she is about to dig her nails in deeper, his fingers run featherlike over the base of her foot and she jolts in shock, trying desperately to retract her foot. Charlie's hand comes off her breast with all the motion and Elliot chuckles as she continues to try and retract her foot, kicking him away.

"Stop it-" she can't help but laugh, and she ends up thumping him in the chest with her foot when he won't let go.

"Ticklish baby?" he teases, and he's yanked her part way down the chair now. She sits up, one leg strewn on his lap and she's thumping his arm playfully in an effort to get him to stop. She notices Charlie's attention is now diverted to Rodney who is heading back with the drinks and she breaths a small sigh of relief.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Charlie get up, take the seat on the other side of Elliot and she's finally able to let out the breath she was holding. She scoots back in her chair, thankful Elliot's diversion has worked and for the space she now has to dissect the way her body reacted to Charlie's touch.

But it's Elliot gaze, that remains on her that won't allow her heart rate settle back down. She's showing all the skin in the world but it's the expression on her face that he's fixated on.

And he is reading her like a book.

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

_Happy Birthday to me. _

_:::::::::::::::::::::::_

_**10pm**_

_:::::::::::::::::::::::_

The ice-cold water slammed into him like a brick wall.

He'd recalled the pool temperature being a tropical dream during the day, but the deceptive heat from the spa had given him a false sense of security.

He breast stroked under the water, once – twice, before he resurfaced, drawing in a deep breath, finding it a struggle to fill his lungs.

The dive had knocked the wind out of him.

As he continued to wade through the icy depths he spotted her – facing the wall of the pool, her arms folded in front of her, her chin propped up on her forearms. Her untouched cocktail perched on the edge of the pool.

His eyes dipped to the gold pieces of string that clung together messily, leaving two uneven pieces cascading down her back.

He doesn't want to think about how her sun-kissed skin looks a lot darker at night and that the moonlight appears to be creating a sheen around her. He instead takes, the few remaining strokes until he's inches away. As the water ripples against her back he takes in a deep, languid breath.

"You ok?" He whispers from behind, his words reverberating against the wall of the pool. He knows he shouldn't drop his cover, not even for a second - but it's been hours since they'd touch base. Hours since his hand ran across her smooth, firm legs. Hours since Charlie's hand slid inside her bikini top, Olivia's nipples hardening from her touch..

_Jesus._

The water continues to lap at her shoulders and she's shown no response to his question, let alone his presence. He knows Charlie can see them from the spa – so he doesn't waste any time. He moves in, wrapping his arms around her stomach, pulling her softy until she's coming off the wall.

She doesn't resist, and he's surprised when she allows herself to fall back into him, as if she'd been expecting him. He takes a deep breath when the wet skin of her back sinks into his chest, and he tries to ignore the string that's now teasing his stomach.

He hadn't been conscious of where his hands were going and they'd ended up around her rib cage, just below the swell of her breasts - the undersides of her breasts now resting on his forearm.

_For the love of God._

He knows he should have grabbed her lower.

The night air has since quenched the heat of the day and he can feel her body temperature is below norm. He holds her a little tighter and for a moment he just enjoys the way her body is starting to heat his.

"Liv," he whispers against her ear, prodding her to respond to his earlier query, but her silence is only fueling his concern. He lets his chin rest on the top of her shoulder and he tries instead to listen to her body, to her breathing, her movements – to any sign that she might be giving him.

_Nothing._

He can feel it then. A nervous energy – and his heartbeat begins a solid thump against the wall of her back. He knows something's off. It's the first time in 12 hours that he's managed to get her alone, to check in and she isn't responding to him.

His mind is racing now because there was a solid patch during the day when he'd lost sight of her. He'd been helping Rodney with the drinks when she'd disappeared with Charlie. His mind swarmed at the possibilities of what could have happened.

Her hands start to move then, and slowly he feels her peeling off his grip. His eyebrows furrow in confusion, but he lets her detach herself, praying that she had some kind of reasoning for it – some kind of plan.

He wants to say something, anything. Because now the though occurs to him that she may not realize this is just for show. But before he has too long to mull on the possibility she's turned around to face him. Her wet hair is matted to the side face, and he notices for the first time that it spirals into curls when wet. Her eyes are damp from the pool water and if she'd been wearing makeup before, she hasn't got a hint of it left. The sight before him is natural - beautiful, and it almost seems unjust getting a glimpse of a woman he's never seen before.

She looks stunning.

His eyes are trained on her face, but it's the peripheral vision he can't ignore that's granting him access to the damp gold material clinging firmly to darkened bronze.

When she begins to remove the distance between them, his stomach drops as her hands encircle his neck. When the damp material of her bikini presses firmly into the wall of his chest, his teeth sink into his lower lip. His hands go instinctively to the curve of her back but he doesn't realize it's to his detriment because her lower half has no option but to fall softly against his. As the top of her thigh presses against his crotch he closes his eyes. His fingers bite into her skin, and he prays his body doesn't respond to the motion.

When he opens his eyes again, her eyes have fallen to his lips and damn it, he's trembling now, and he has no chance of blaming it on the cold. As she moves up, drawing her mouth excruciatingly close, he can feel her warm breath against his lips. He thinks she's getting closer to tell him something, but as the water laps against their chests, the restraint within him shatters when she mouths the words.

_Kiss me._

**TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

_*cheeky grin*_

_:::::::::::::::::::::::_

_Kiss me._

No words, just her lips and her eyes demanding his mouth be on hers. He doesn't think. She's given him permission and despite the way his stomach had dropped in alarm - he's taking this.

Every. Damn. Second.

Her mouth is so close it only takes seconds to seal it with his. His lips close over her bottom lip and he revels in the way that the dampness of the water has made her lips even softer.

She is clinging to his lips in earnest and it's worlds away from the resistance he'd felt from her last night. His heart is thumping rapidly against her chest, reverberating in his ears and he hopes to God she can't feel it.

Her mouth parts and she breathes in briefly before capturing his top lip between hers and his mind spins. She's taking the lead on his and it isn't long before she tilts her head, opening his mouth with hers, deepening the kiss.

He wants to groan.

The pang hits between his legs. Her wet body is clinging to his and the night air sends a chill up his spine that contradicts the warmth from his waist down. One hands rakes up her back, over gold string until it snakes into the back of her hair and he feels the vibration as she hums against his lips. He feels her body erupt into goosebumps and he thinks it's a combination of the chill in the air and his fingers intertwining through her damp curls.

Her fingertips sink into his shoulders as she adjusts herself against him and for a moment, the night air invades the space she's created between their chests. As her mouth smoothes over his and she moves in once more, it's the firm peaks scraping across his chest that makes his cock twitch.

_Christ._

He moans into her mouth then because fuck it, he's only human. His fingers are biting into the back of her neck and digging into the dip of her waist. He feels her teeth sink into his lower lip and his breath lodges somewhere deep in the back of his throat. He expects her to create space between their lower halves but her thighs are either side of one of his and he can feel her bikini bottoms pressed up against his leg. Her hand moves up the back of his neck until it's sliding into his cropped hair and his control is dwindling by the second because she's deepening this, not tapering down. When she pulls his lower lip into her mouth and gently sucks he loses his grip and his hand descends, his fingers running over the damp material covering the swell of her ass. It's instinctive, and it's seconds - but he pulls her lower-half flush against his, the top of his thigh pressing firmly between her parted legs. He expects silence, he expects a pokerfaced Olivia to just take it but she moans openly - whimpers more like it, and the sound is trapped between their mouths as her lips still against his.

He can tell he's shaken her, she asked him to kiss her, not grab her ass and sandwich their lower halves together. But he's still fixating on the whimper-moan and how the pool walls amplified the sound that unwillingly ripped from her vocal chords. He thinks that's why she's still against his body now – she's caught off guard, embarrassed by her reaction but his bodies need to continue this, to lavish every second she's offering, propels him forward. He lifts her slightly in the water, taking the two steps until he has her up against the wall.

He feels her sharp intake of breath as her back slots into the ridge behind her and his chest removes any space between them. Then it's as if he's on autopilot, he doesn't think, just moves his hand to one thigh as he parts the other with his leg until she's got no option but to wrap her legs around his waist. She does it without hesitation but as he steps forward, intent on sandwiching her against the wall he feels it, his semi – now hard as fuck, pressing directly between her legs.

He groans into her mouth, livid that he miscalculated body parts but unable to restrain himself as he holds her against the wall. Her breathing has escalated, and he wants to apologize for his fully fledged hard-on but the pleasure from the proximity escalates when he feels her thighs tighten around his waist. He is powerless then as he drives his hips forward, his cock pressing into her core, his hips rocking her ass against bricks.

She moans openly now, her fingers digging into the back of his head as he rocks into her and the thought rattles him - with the removal of two pieces of material he'd be inside her. He can feel the hard peaks of her nipples tweaked from the cold, flush up against his chest and _Christ_ he wants to touch them. He wants to squeeze her breasts and thumb her hard as hell nipples but there is no space between their bodies, and he's not stopping the pleasure that's building between his legs.

With each movement his lowerhalf makes, his breathing increases until it escalates to soft moans, mirroring hers. She's slipping down the wall in her state so he lifts her with his hips and his hand on her thigh – pressing her at a 90 degree angle. His cock continues to rock between her legs and instantly he feels her nails dig in, her mouth part and she's rocking her hips against his in response.

_Elliot._

_Jesus. _ Did he just hear that right? Was it his name against her lips? He must be hitting her at the right angle now because her whole body is writhing, and she's gripping onto his shoulders for grim death.

Her mouth parts against his and that's when he feels it, her tongue trailing the swell of his lower lip and he groans into her mouth. _Christ Olivia. _That's it then, his lips smother hers and she gasps when he wedges her mouth open. He's still rocking her firmly against the wall when he slides his tongue into her open mouth, and a weak moan emanates from her throat as he swipes the tip across hers. Her thighs instinctively tighten around his hips and his cock throbs dangerously in response.

_Fuck._

He rips his mouth from hers, trailing it across her cheek to the base of her ear because he knows.

"Liv_," _he manages to get out and there is a warning in his tone. He needs this to stop, he needs this to end because the pleasure building in his cock is threatening to overtake. She's still rocking into his hips and his fingers are biting firmly into her thighs as if that will be warning enough.

"Stop-p," he practically grates in her ear but her ankles only press harder into the swell of his ass and he realizes she is in no way, shape or form tapering down. Her moans are no longer muffled by his mouth and when he feels the tip of his cock practically penetrate her swimsuit he is powerless.

"Ugh-" his voice drags as he groans in her ear and it's his last ditch attempt because he is seconds from spilling. The beats of control rapidly slip away and it's her mouth, skimming across the shell of his ear that ends this for him.

And in two words she snaps his pitiful grip on control.

_Now El._

**TBC**


End file.
